Another One In The Ditch
by ThatOneGuyFromThen
Summary: No matter your place in life, no matter how much strength you have, no matter how many connections you make, there will always be something in New Meridian to remind you of just how weak you really are. I was reminded of that when I was just a boy. Now, I swear to never be reminded of that again.
1. The First Night

Another One In The Ditch

No matter your place in life, no matter how much strength you have, no matter how connections you make, there will always be something in New Meridian to remind you of just how weak you really are. I was reminded of that when I was just a boy. Now, I swear to never want to be reminded of that again.

Let's just get this out of the way. This is my first piece of work on this website and it won't be the last. People may not like it, and I'm ready to accept that.

That being said, I'm doing what I am because I truly do like this fandom, and believe that it is under appreciated. So while I may not have much experience in writing, I do have plenty of passion for what I will now be doing. So let's hope I can make you guys stick around, yeah?

Well, let's get the ball rolling. Sorry if you hate it, and thanks if you like it.

Cheers, eh?

The first thing I noticed when I stepped onto the front lawn was the ruined state of the front door. Even in the dead of night and with minimalist lighting provided by the current crescent moon, it was a rather noticeable sight to anyone walking by.

Completely knocked off its hinges and left with a gapping hole where the handle should have been, It made for an ominous sight.

Pulling a wrinkled up piece of paper out of my coat pocket, I held it up beside the mailbox situated next to me on the lawn.

Confirming the address written on the white parchment with the one engraved on the box, I kept the paper in hand whilst stepping up to the shadowed house and into its confines.

Taking care not to step on any splinters left in the broken doors wake, I made my way into the hallway connecting to the foyer. Much like the door before it, obvious damage had been done to both its wall and floor.

Pictures had been torn off the wall and thrown to the floor, while pieces of broken glass stood out here and there along the cheap rug taking up the length of the hallway. What really grabbed my attention were the specks that appeared randomly on the carpet, floor, and the pictures no longer protected by their frames.

Do to the lack of light within the house, I couldn't quite make out what they were.

Crouching down, I ran two fingers through a particularly large splotch of the thick substance. Bringing said fingers up to my nose I inhaled lightly before recoiling away from the scent.

Blood.

Wiping the iron rich liquid onto my jacket, I made to stand up before noticing an oddity lying face up on the ground.

A frame that, unlike the others around it, was rather small and, more importantly, unbroken. Within said frame, a picture of what appeared to be a middle aged couple remained undamaged.

The couple consisted of a young, tall, light skinned man, decked out in a tuxedo and smiling as if he just won the lottery whilst holding a much smaller and more composed young lady in his arms. Said women was wearing a modest and simple white gown, matching incredibly well with her soft brown eyes that seemed to sparkle in the light.

It was obviously a wedding photo. The two were dressed to well and seemingly too happy for it to be anything else.

The words "Congratulations, Anne and Marvin," written on the banner behind them helped a little two.

Offering the photo a small smile, I carefully pushed against the glass, forcing it inward and loose from the frame, allowing me access to the photo within. Taking it out carefully and placing the glass back into position, I folded the photo in half before placing it gently into my breast pocket.

Getting back to business, I made my way down the hall, stoping in front of a doorway the seemingly led down the stairs. I sighed as I began making my way down, noticing that even more blood could be seen on every few steps. It would be a serious pain in the ass to get the stains out.

About halfway down the steps, the familiar scent of blood began wafting into my nose. At the three quarter mark, I could see the outline of legs. Reaching the finale step, I was confronted by my purpose for coming here.

At the bottom of the steps, an old women lay face up on the ground, the back of her head soaking in a puddle of crimson blood.

Staring at the body, I froze, taking in a moment to take in her still form before muttering my first words since entering the house that night.

"Really?"

Hoping off the last step and over the old sack'a bones, I landed just outside the puddle, swinging my arms playfully in order to keep balanced before turning around a taking a look at the body.

Dressed in a disheveled nightgown and slippers, the women had obviously gone through hell before meeting her end.

Bruises littered her face from jaw to temple, a still noticeable handprint wrapped tightly around her neck. I was willing to bet she'd been strangled with one hand and beaten with the other. A real Tom Robinson the killer must've been.

Using the edge of my shoe, I nudged the women over and onto her front. It was there I noticed the large, red gash running along the back of her head.

Having pretty much pieced everything together, I hoped over the body once more and began making my way back outside of the house.

From what I could tell, the murder had started at the front door. The killer had probably knocked, the old lady answered, didn't like what he was selling, and closed the door on him.

Not taking kindly to that, he must've then kicked open the door before making his way down the hall towards her. He'd probably done it slowly, tried to scare her a bit by knocking over those pictures from before.

After that, he grabbed her by the neck, slapped her around for a bit, and then threw her down the flight of stairs where she cracked her skull on the concrete floor of the basement.

Pretty standard murder really. Doesn't even make it into my top ten. That one guy from a few weeks back? The one who made the some poor bastard eat dog shit before strangling him with the turd still in his throat? Now that was a classic.

Ending back up on the front lawn, I made my way towards the street and my parked van, it's sheeny black surface making it almost invisible in the darkness of the night.

Sliding open the side door, I rummaged through the mess I called a trunk before picking up a large black duffel bag and slinging it around my shoulder. Next came a rug, a mop, and a pair of disposable latex gloves from a little cardboard box next to my seat.

Slamming the door shut and turning around, I began making my way back into the crime scene.

It was time to get to work.

I began with the body, as I usually did. Putting on my gloves, I rolled out the earlier mentioned rug before stepping over to the old ladies body.

Unceremoniously, I began rolling her across the floor and onto the black rug, stopping her on the edge so that I could hook my thumbs under the edge of fabric before beginning the rolling process again.

Once she was all nice and tight within the soft carpet, I stuck my hand inside one end, doing my best to puff out the sides and make the bump less obvious, before taking some black duct tape and securing the rug properly and stopping it from unraveling.

With the body out of the way, I rolled up my sleeves before opening up my duffel bag and pulling out a bucket, and a box of sodium peroxide.

Running the bucket up stairs, I found my way into the kitchen and ran the bucket under the sink until it reached close to the rim.

Bringing it back down to the basement, I grabbed my mop, dunking it into the bucket before going to work on the small pool of blood. Luckily, the cut on her skull hadn't been to large, so only a small amount of blood had gotten out.

Cleaning up the small mess in about a minute, I placed the mop and bucket to the side before pulling out a small rag, drying the puddle before grabbing the sodium peroxide from earlier, sprinkling it liberally across the still remaining stain.

With the peroxide down, I threw the rug on my shoulder before making may way back to the van, laying the body down on what little empty space I had back there.

Entering the house, hopefully for the last time, I went back to the kitchen, searching for the house phone I knew would be there.

Finding it attached to a wall, I went to pick it up before noticing the stains present on its handle. I sighed at the absolute laziness of the killer. He hadn't even washed his hands before calling me.

Picking it up regardless of the messy handle, I pulled out my trusty piece of paper again before checking a different set of numbers from the one on the mail box.

Punching them in, I waited a few seconds before a familiar voice answered.

"This you?"

"The one and only."

"Yeah, whatever. Did you clean it up."

"I'm taking the stains out as we speak. Gonna let the sodium sit for another few minutes before pouring some more on top just to be sure. Did you leave the pay here, or do I have to come get it myself?"

"Nope. I still got it on me. I'm at a little dinner called Switzers. Meet me here in the next half hour if you want it. You know the place right?

"Yeah. I'll see you then."

Hanging up the phone, I walked over to the counter and tore some paper towel, running it under water before cleaning off the stains on the phone.

Typically, that wouldn't be enough to get the job done. Cops would still get the finger prints easy as pie.

Over the last few decades however, leaving evidence had become less and less of a problem. With the heavy influence of the Medici on there forces, the feds had come to the point where even if they did find any traces leading to a murder, they'd just dispose of it themselves rather then try and find a connection to the killer, less they accidentally find themselves being led to the mob.

Dad told me once that it used to be a lot harder to dispose of things back in the old days. Back when cops actually gave a shit. That's what led him to developing our state of the art disposing unit.

That whole disaster in the hallway? Twenty years ago, cops would've found the killer not even twenty four hours later with that mess alone. Now a days, you just had a get rid of the body, and the feds would call an obvious murder as nothing but a missing persons case.

Taking a look at a small clock hanging on the same wall as the phone, I made my way down stairs, deciding the sodium had sat long enough.

Taking the bucket, I pouring the rest of the water onto the pile, washing it away the small the substance and revealing a clean floor. A second layer wouldn't be needed it seemed.

Gathering up all of my cleaning equipment, I took a bottle of air freshener, gave it quick spritz, tossed it back in the bag, and made my way back to the van.

Tossing my bag in the back, I hopped behind the wheel, started the ignition and began making my way way out of Maple Crest.

The dashboard clock told me it was about two o'clock in the morning. Still another hour or two before I'd usually be in bed, so I didn't mind staying up a little longer if it meant getting paid.

Hopefully, my contact was still at the dinner.

Chapter 1 - End

And so, the first chapter is finished. For those of you who made it this far, thank you. For those of you who didn't, I don't blame you.

Now. I'm not quite sure where I'm going to go with this story, but I do intend for it a get kind of dark. Not to bad, but I may need to change the age rating. For now though it shouldn't be to bad.

I've got a general layout for the story, as well as my Oc, Donavan. Once I get in a few more chapters, I may release an actual bio of the character so you guys can visualize him better. Hopefully I get that far anyways.

As I said before, I'm writing this so as to add to the fandom, and to get some ideas out of my head.

Well that's that.

Cheers, eh?


	2. Late Night Meetings

**Totally forgot to mention how I'm not the developer or owner of Skullgirls in the last chapter. Guess I'll have to start doing that now, huh?**

 **Anyways, thanks for showing up to read another chapter of this mess.**

 **If you like it, thank you. If you hate it, I don't blame you.**

 **Cheers, eh?**

 **Disclaimer: Skullgirls is property of Autumn Games and Reverge Labs. I only own my OC and his story.**

O - O - O - O - O

"More coffee?"

"Sure."

Pouring the hot, black brew into my mug, the waitress offered me a tired smile before walking off to serve one of the other few tables around me.

Taking a pack of sugar from the ramekin beside me, I tore open the cheap packaging before pouring it into the coffee, letting it sit for a moment before reaching for another pack and doing the action a second time.

Then a third. And a fourth...

Fifth.

Sixth.

Seventh.

...Eigh-

"You like a bit of coffee with your sugar, eh?"

I felt my eyebrow tick at Jackson's comment. "That's not how the joke goes."

"Whatever."

Taking a sip from his own mug, Jackson turned to stare out the window of Switzers while I finished making my coffee.

"So... what did that women in my trunk do to warrant a staircase to the back of her head."

"Ah, not much. Honestly I hadn't even meant to kill he," he explained, taking a break for a sip of coffee. "Her name was Anne. She and her husband... Uhhhh-."

"Marvin."

"Marvin, yeah. How'd you know that?"

"Lucky guess."

"... Your stealing random crap from people's houses again aren't you." I smirked, but said nothing else. "But yeah, Anne and Marvin. They own a pretty profitable jewellery store in the inner city."

"And they didn't feel like paying the Medicis' protection fees, right."

"Emhm."

"Splendid. So if you were only there to scare them into paying, why did I have to pick up another body tonight? And what happened to Marvin?"

"A couple of other guys picked him up at work this morning. They were holding him until tomorrow so that he could claim insurance on the damages that I did tonight.

I was just supposed to go in, pick Anne up, wreck the house, and then bring her in so that Marvin would have some extra motivation to not try and pull a fast one on us. So, just like I said, I went in, knocked some stuff around, grabbed her and was about to leave..."

"And then."

"... She bit me."

"... And you killed her cause of that?"

"No. I smacked her for a few minutes, grabbed her by the throat and... then she bit me again... by the... stairs."

"Your an idiot."

A smile coming to his face, Jackson sent me a mischievous look. "I thought so to at first. So I called in to tell Vitale, ready to have my ass tanned and everything, but he just brushed it off! Said we could claim her life insurance and make an extra profit."

"Congrats. Your own stupidity has kept you safe from bullet in the skull yet again."

Grumbling, Jackson took a look at his watch eyebrows raising in suprise at the time. "Geez man, it's almost three. We should probably get going."

"Why? Don't you have the day off tomorrow?" I stopped wondering how one even got days off in the mafia long ago.

"Yeah, but you have work, don't you."

I scoffed at that. "You and I both know I won't get any sleep if I just go home and lay in bed."

"Yeah, yeah. Insomnia and what not." With that, the young killer/mobster finished his coffee, standing up from our table and throwing his jacket on. "Well, thanks for the help man. If you get off work early, or it's just a slow day, give me a call. We'll catch a movie or something."

"Yeah, maybe."

Dropping some cash on the table to pay for both our coffees, he sent me a two fingered salute before making his way outside and onto the streets of New Meridian. At this time of night. Most people would think twice before going through the inner city by themselves at this time of night.

Jackson wasn't most people.

We met sometime back in highschool. Back when I was even more dark and brooding then I am now. Basically deciding that I was going to be his friend weither I liked it or not, the two of us had started hanging out and stuck togather since.

After he'd gone and joined the Medicis, our relationship had soured a bit, but not by much. Now a days, things had mostly gone back to the way they were back in school, with me pulling his ass out of trouble whenever he screws up on a job, and him making sure I have regular human contact from time to time.

Picking up the cash he'd dropped, I walked over to the register and payed, letting the tired waitress keep the change.

Reaching my van, I started the ignition before making my way home.

O - O - O - O - O

The morgue would've been a disturbing sight to anyone else at this time of night. What, with the ominous gravestones, the black gates covered in roots and vines, the dying trees where even a bird wouldn't lay its nest.

Those had scared me once upon a time. Now, I can't imagine calling anywhere else home.

Coming to a stop on the gravel drive way, just in front of the large building, I shut off the car before hopping out and sliding open the door, putting one foot inside to get some leverage before lifting the old women's body out and throwing it over my shoulder.

I made my way up the cold, aging stairs I came to a stop in front of the door, searching my pockets for my keys to the house in front of me.

It was a large, grey building, with a large brown, oak door at its entrance. Roots and vines wrapped all around he house, just like on the fences surrounding the cemetery. Three different floors, and an attic made up the large mansion. Business was done on the first floor, living on the second, storage on the third, and casket preparation in the basement.

Naturally, after opening the door, that's where I made my way with the body. Typically, Dad would tan my hide if he found out I'd taken a body through the front door and not the outside stairs to the basement, but I figured he'd be sound asleep by now.

Walking across the hardwood floor of the foyer, I Adjusted Anne on my shoulder before making my way downstairs to the basement.

It was almost pitch black in the downstairs hallways, but I didn't bother feeling the walls for the light switch. I new my way around the basement better then my old man by this point.

With a few twists and turn through the almost catacomb like floor, I eventually came to a stop in front of hardwood door. Wrapping my hand around the handle, I used my thumb and felt around, eventually bumping into a little switch held under on the bar.

Clicking it in, I then turned the doorknob, stepping in and hitting the light switch, I layed my eyes across the multiple caskets that were just barely visible to my still adjusting eyes.

Layed our across the large dimly lit room in multiple stages of preparedness, caskets from rich oak wood to deep ivory stood before me. Some of them were fully cushioned and ready to embrace there new owner, while others had just been barely put togather.

Doubling as not just a room to hold and build caskets, I also used the large room as my personal workspace, with a few clutter filled tables here and there. Walking over to a one of the few clear tables, I dropped the rolled up carpet on top of one before grabbing an exacto knife from the wall of tools off to the side.

Taking the knife to the tape keeping the carpet in check, I cut one side before cutting the other, the rug unceremoniously flattening across the table and revealing Anne's dead body for the world to see.

Sighing at the sight of her miserable corpse, reached into my pocket, bringing out a fresh pair of gloves that I'd grabbed earlier before begining the second half of my job.

I started with her head, as the most damage had been done there.

I did my best to clean and dress the wound, washing it with alcohol and water before bringing out a thread and string.

Carefully pinching her skin togather, I began sewing, stitching her head back togather as best as I could. After that, I combed her frail brown and grey hair over the wound, covering it up as best as I could.

After that, I brought out some make up, applying it to her neck and face, covering up the ugly splotches of red and purple under a thin layer of cover up that matched her skin.

Finishing that, I adjusted her nightgown as best as I could, getting rid of any wrinkles I could without having to actually taking the dress off and iron them out.

Now finished, I gently picked up the old lady's body, walking her around the room while searching for a nice casket.

A good mahogany case would go well with her hair. I decided on one of those.

Choosing a mostly complete one, I layed her body down gently onto the soft cushioning of the casket. Then, I slowly took hold of her wrists before placing them side by side on her chest.

Finally, I reached into my coat pocket, bringing out the picture of Anne and her husband. Gently prying her hands open, I placed the photo in between them. Now holding onto a momento of her past, Anne was now laying at piece in her casket, a beautiful picture of content.

Nice.

Reaching under the table, I pulled out a large piece of plywood that matched the length and width of the casket.

Aligning it with the open case, I gently pushed it in, a hidden indent in the casket stopping the wood just before it touched Anne.

Stifling a yawn, I pulled a watch out of my pocket and checked the time.

It was just about four o'clock now. Usually the time I went to bed. Perhaps it was a bit unhealthy to stay up so late every night, but insomnia didn't quite seem to care about my well being.

Looking back at the stark contrast that the plywood made with the mahogany, I thought things over for a second before, turning around and making my way upstairs.

I could finish preparing Anne's casket tommorow. By then, we'd probably get a customer looking for a place to bury someone. We could put them put in the mahogany casket, have them buried with Anne hidden below them. and just like that, the jewellery store owners body would be gone, all evidence leading towards my friends murder erased.

The Obitro body removal business was truly a remarkable thing.

O - O - O - O - O

Opening the door to my room, I began taking off my uniform, laying it out on the dresser as I did. Normally, I'd just throw them off and onto the floor, but with my shift being in just a few hours, I decided to save myself the pain of having to iron.

First came off the crimson blazer, followed by a white dress shirt and T-shirt. Next came brown dress shoes, white socks and my beige cargo pants. The actual uniform entailed wearing a pair of khakis, but the old man let me get away with these after a whole lot of complaining.

Clad in nothing but my black boxers, I lazily fell onto my bed, hoping that sleep would come to me easily tonight.

Yeah. I'm Donavan Obitro. I'm a mortician with my father, friends with a killer/mobster, a weirdo who plays with dead bodies, and a disposer of bodies for the criminal underworld.

O - O - O - O - O

 **Well, here's the second chapter. Feel a lot better about this one. Especially because I now know exactly how to things show up when written in specific ways on the website.** **Like how to properly space and add lines between cuts in scenes.**

 **Now, as you can see from the body preparation scene, Donavan is a bit of a creep. I'll tell you this now, no one else in his workplace would've done the same thing. His fascination with dead bodies will be explained later on, (if I make it that far).**

 **Anyways, these first two chapters were meant to introduce my OC and get us used to his surroundings and character. The introductory chapters if you will.** **After this, the story will most likely be updated at a slower rate but with longer chapters.**

 **Well guess that's It for now. The story will truly begin after this. If you liked it, thank you. If you didn't, I don't blame you.**

 **Cheers, eh?**


	3. And So It Begins

**Hey there. I'd like to apologize for taking almost a month to upload this chapter, especially considering the chapters for this story aren't very long. It's not that I was really getting writers block either. It's more that I was having way to many ideas, and was having trouble deciding on which one to go with.**

 **Plus side, I've got a solid idea on where I want this story to go now. Down side, there are now a ton of other story's I want to start writing and I'm not sure I'll be able to hold myself back from starting them, thus taking time away from this fic.**

 **For now though, I'll do my best to fight my cravings and try to start hunkering down on this fic, maybe even get steady schedule going with it.**

 **Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I'll do my next to get the next one up soon.**

 **Cheers, eh?**

 **-0-0-0-0-0-**

 **Rated T for swearing, drug and alcohol reference, mild sexual themes, blood, gore, and violence.**

 **Skullgirls is the property of Autumn Games and Reverge Labs. I only own my OC and his story.**

-0-0-0-0-0-

"Shit!"

I flung my hand back and forth in the air, doing my best to cool it down with the quick motion before taking a look at it. Now a bright red, my thumb was currently throbbing in pain. Tossing the hammer that I had just struck my aching finger with to the side, I shot a look over my shoulder towards the device that had just caused me to commit self harm.

Currently ringing up a storm, the black, spin dial phone plugged into the wall across the basement from me had stolen my attention just as I'd been bringing down the hammer. Tossing out a few more curses as I made my way towards it, I gave my thumb one last once over before picking up the phone off the receiver.

"Hello."

"Hey bud. Can you come upstairs and start getting ready. The gangs gonna be here in about twenty minutes and I don't want you covered in saw dust when they arrive."

Scoffing, I muttered a quick "Sure", in response before hanging up the phone and heading back over to the coffin I'd been working on just minutes ago.

Currently missing the majority of its interior furnishing, the casket was far from finished. I'd been in the middle of nailing the lavender cushioning to the sides when the phone had started to ring, leading to me missing my target and landing in my thumb instead.

Though a pain wasn't pleasant, it wasn't anything new. I'd hit my self more then a few times these last few years while piecing together these wooden boxes.

Most funeral homes didn't actually make their own caskets. Most funeral homes also didn't hide incriminating evidence beneath their dead clients either.

Disappointed that I couldn't finish my work before leaving, I kissed my teeth before making my way too the door, hitting the lights before exiting the workshop and making my way towards my bedroom.

Once there, I tossed off my sweat stained T-shirt and jeans before making my way into the bathroom and turning on the shower. Running my hand under it, I deemed that 46 degrees was hot enough and stepped in, the painful sting of the heat only lasting for a minute before I released a sigh, the hot water soothing after a long day of work in the basement.

About ten minutes later, I was clad in a towel and in front of a mirror, staring at my reflection.

I wasn't much to look at.

Short, brown hair styled into a Ceaser, tired, brown eyes with heavy bags underneath them, and light brown skin that hadn't seen proper sun in days. A small indent like scar ran across my forehead just under my hairline, a product of a nasty encounter with a coffee table as a three year old. And two oddly shaped scars going from my temple to lips on the left side of my face... Other then that, there wasn't anything special about the guy currently looking back at me in the mirror.

After that little self pity trip, I brushed my teeth, put on some deodorant, threw on my uniform and headed downstairs to the foyer where the gang would be arriving any minute.

-0-0-0-0-0-

About ten minutes later, and I was sitting on the staircase in the foyer, still waiting for company when a knock finally echoed out from the large, oak doors.

Standing up and brushing myself off, I made my way to the door and opened it, revealing the first of many guests to show up tonight.

"Well, hello there Donavan. You've grown since I last saw you." Slicked back, sharply dressed, and backed up by two grizzly looking mobsters, Vitale Medici currently stood in my doorway.

"Good to see you sir. My father will be glad your joining us tonight."

"Well I'm glad to be here. The meeting will be in the same place as usual I assume."

"Up the stairs, down the hall, second door on the right." Offering me nod, the well dressed mobster made his way upstairs, flanked by his two bodyguards.

Stopping suddenly, the older man brought a finger to the side of his face, tapping it questioningly. "If I might ask, what happened to the side of your face young Donavan?"

 _Pain, my blood on the floor, broken trust, confusion._

"Oh, uh... I got it on the job a few weeks ago. Coffin that I lent up against a wall fell on top of me and splintered."

From the look in his eyes, I could tell he didn't buy it for a second. A few seconds later however, and he sent me a smile before heading upstairs. "So long as it wasn't another coffee table, eh little Donavan."

Respect was something I didn't show many people. Vitale was one of those few. A high ranking capo, a smooth talker, and eldest son of Lorenzo Medici, Vitale was someone I couldn't even imagine trying to cross. Not just out of fear, but out of respect.

A man who actually saw value in his men, rather then just bags of flesh to be used as meat shields, an ideology that had earned him the never ending loyalty of those who worked for him. According to Jackson, people in the mob respected him even more then his father, Lorenzo.

An incredible feat, considering just how much fear the leader of the Medicis inspired.

That wasn't to say Vitale didn't send chills up my spine from time to time either, what with his all knowing eyes and what not.

Over the course of the next half hour, more and more guests began to arrive. Shady business men, gruff looking criminals, femme fatales, and etc. There were less then usual though. Whenever it was my dads turn to host an underground meeting, at least a few dozen people tended to show up. Now, not including any bodyguards. Less then ten had shown. It made me wonder just what would happen at tonight's meeting.

These meetings were a monthly thing, though we weren't always the host. Lorenzo or his sons would gather there highest ranking officers togather in a hidden and trusted location once a month to discuss finances, territory, drugs, prostitution, and whatever other market the most powerful gang in New Meridian decided to sink their teeth into.

After the last guest arrived, I waited in the foyer for a few more minutes, just to make sure there weren't any stragglers before heading upstairs myself. Following my own directions, I made it to the door of the meeting room just as my father ushered in the last guest.

Clad in a uniform similar to mine, though with khakis instead of cargos, Donatello Obitro now stood before me. He was almost a head taller then me, with a strong, muscular frame and a well trimmed beard. If I had to describe him, he was a taller, buffer version of the most interesting man in the world.

Sending a look my way, he glanced over my shoulder before asking, "That everyone?"

"Yeah. I'm a bit surprised. Not as many people tonight, eh?"

Scratching his short, greying beard, my dad nodded his head. "Vitale wanted this meeting to be a bit more secretive tonight. Appearantly, we're discussing some serious stuff. I'm surprised we're having this few though."

Offering a nod, I made my way into the room before my dad shut the door.

The room was dimly lit, a little trick my dad used so that nobody could read anyone else's expression. Within the low lighting, a long rectangular, oak wood table stretched out, taking up a considerable amount of floor space. Comfortable dinner chairs lined the table, with more then a little bit of elbow room between each chair. Though there were a total of thirty chairs, only six of them were currently being used.

Any one actively participating in the meeting would sit, while any body gaurds who came would stood behind them. Typically, the room was crowded. All thirty chairs were filled, and anyone standing was typically shoulder to shoulder with their neighbor.

In contrast, tonight the room was like a ghost town. Only six people had shown up. Including my father, that made seven people in total who would be actively involved in the meeting tonight.

Making my way off to the side, I allowed my father to gather the rooms attention. "I'd like to thank everyone for attending tonight. I know this was a little short notice, but Vitale didn't exactly give me much time to send out formal invitations."

Holding his hands up in surrender, Lorenzo offered my father an apologetic look. "My apologies Mr. Obitro, but what we'll be discussing tonight sprung up on me rather abruptly." Nodding, my father took his seat, allowing Vitale to stand up and begin discussions. "Now, before I say what I intend to, I ask that anyone not currently sitting at the table to please leave the room."

I raised my eyebrow at that. A few other people did as well. While these meetings were often civil enough, that was typically do to the ring of armed bodyguards standing behind everyone's back, ready and willing to put a bullet in someone's head should they disrespect the wrong person. And judging by how important this meeting would be...

"Do you trust us all so little Vitale," commented a well dressed man sitting down at the table. I wasn't quite sure, but I believed he was the manager of the River King Casino. "I guarantee you that none of my men will talk."

"For what we're about to discuss," started Vitale, a dangerous glint suddenly making itself known behind his glasses, "I'm afraid your 'Guarantee', isn't enough." Nodding, the manager gestured his thumb towards the door, his two guards following his symbol and making they're way out. The action was quickly followed by everyone else standing.

Placing a hand on my dad's shoulder, I waited for a quick nod before following them out. Exiting the room, I watched as most of the guards either began talking amongst themselves, leaned against a wall with their eyes closed, or stood off to the side, eyeing up anyone they deemed a threat.

Hearing a thud and a quick lock turn, I sighed. It would appear that they really didn't want anyone listening in on the meeting. A real shame if I'm being honest. The meetings typically bored the hell out of me, so knowing that something interesting was finally happening in that room that I wasn't allowed to know about... kinda pissed me off.

Tucking my hands into my blazers pockets, I began making my way down the hallway and away from the meeting room. The chumps who had gotten kicked out of the room may have had nowhere else to go, but I knew the large mansion like the back of my hand, and could at least go to my room or wander around for a awhile before my dad and the others called us back inside.

...Or.

Grinning, I waited until I turned the corner and exited everyone's line of sight before suddenly breaking out into a sprint, making sure to only hit the floor with the front of my feet so as to make less noise that would draw attention. Running down the halls, I eventually made it to a room in a more remote part of the house. Turning around, I made sure no one was watching before placing my hand on the doorknob, hitting the hidden switch much like in the basement before entering the dark room and shutting the door behind me.

Hitting the light switch to the left of me, a small, single hanging light bulb clicked on, illuminating the room in a soft, yellow glow.

Filled to the brim with small, box shaped T.V.s and radios, the sight of the Obitro security room brought a smile to my face.

Sitting down in a small swivel chair, I began looking through the black and white pictures of each screen, searching for the camera feed that displayed the meeting room, I eventually found it. Picking up a pair of headphones, I plugged them into the television before putting them on, eager to eavesdrop on the meeting. It had taken me less then two minutes to make it to this room and find the right feed, so I hoped they hadn't started anything important yet.

And it appeared that my hopes were answered.

Now standing up from his end of the table, it appeared that Vitale had just started speaking. Turning up the volume, I readied myself for whatever news would be coming to me.

"-The Skullgirl is back, and she has set her sights on the Medicis."

I took me a moment to process that one.

The Skullgirl. The incarnation of all things evil. Born supposedly to destroy the world in order for the Trinity to recreate in their own image. That's how the Trinity bible went anyways. Every seven years, a new one shows up, ready to reek havoc upon the world and kill all who stand before her.

Needless to say, if something like that was after the mob, I can see why Vitale wanted only his most high up officials to know about it. Mass knowledge of their impending death would surely cause a riot amongst the grunts within the mob.

Realizing that Vitale was still talking, I quickly cut myself off and regained focus, content to just sit back and listen for now and save my contemplation for later.

"We do not no her identity, where she is operating, or why she is after us, but that doesn't matter. What matters, is making sure we put her and her corpse army back into the ground before she can do any major damage. She takes enough of our skeletons out of the closet, and the Feds might finally find something on us they can use."

"You sure we need to worry so much Vitale?" Questioned a young man currently looking rather disinterested by the fact that a god like entity was now out for his life. "Even if the Skullgirl exposes us a bit, it's not like she could do enough damage to put any one important behind bars. And besides, didn't the boss fight toe to toe with the last Skullgirl by himself? Why can't he just do it again?"

Narrowing his eyes like he had done before, Vitale's stare quickly made the young thug quite right up. The well dressed mobster could look damn intimidating when he wanted to. "Need I remind you that with the kings daughter now running the country, it has been getting harder and harder to sweep things under the rug. If the Skullgirl hits us in just the right spot, the princess and her Egrets will have no qualms with striking in the same area. The Skullgirl is a force to be reckoned with. One that I'm sure will be the end of us all, either by death or imprisonment for us all, if she is not dealt with."

Taking a moment to compose himself as well as see if anyone else in the room had any points they'd like to bring up, Vitale adjusted his glasses before suddenly switching to a more somber expression. "As... for my father fighting the Skullgirl... that is the real reason why this meeting had to be kept under such wraps. What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room, lest we risk unease, disbelief, and god forbid, treason, in the Medicis."

At this, everyone leaned interest peeked by Vitales sudden mood change. "As you all know, my father is getting on in years, and yet most would say he looks even younger then I do nowadays... that is do to the nigh immortality that had been granted to him by the Life Gem."

 _A mess of limbs, the sound of weeping, blood dripping everywhere, and eyes filled with hate._

Snapping out of it, I quickly brought myself back to reality, refocusing on the the screen before me.

While most of the people had looks of shock on their face, my dad had a look of neutrality on his. With how far back he went with Lorenzo, I was willing to bet he already knew about the mob boss' secret.

"The gem is what allowed my father to rule this gang uncontested for so long. It was also what allowed him to stand up to Selene Costello all those years ago."

Made sense. With a powerful artifact like the life gem under his control, it was no wonder Lorenzo was such an untouchable figure. Be it politically or physically.

Pulling out a few pieces of paper, Vitale threw them onto the table. "Two months ago, the life gem was stolen by this individual." Already knowing who he was talking about before he brought out the wanted poster, I was unsurprised by the photo; though it did send a chill down my spine.

Nadia Fortune.

I subconsciously rubbed the scars alongside my face.

"Donatello, it was your son who was in charge of disposing of her body, if I'm not mistaken."

Nodding, my dad said, "Yeah. Those new marks on his face are proof."

And... thanks for throwing me under the bus there dad.

"And it was after she gave him those scars that she managed to escape. Is that correct."

"Yeah."

"And neither he, nor you, have any idea where she is, right?"

My dads face soured a bit at that, nodding in response. It was clear what Vitale was implying.

"Now, do too years of exposure to the life gem, it would appear that my father's body is now rejecting itself without the constant healing properties it has grown used to. As a result, his body is now rapidly deteriorating. Thus, it is of the utmost importance that we find Nadia as soon as possible. Otherwise, my fathers life will be at an end very soon."

Shooting a look towards the entire room, though specifically, my father and the man from earlier, Vitale angled a quick glare at him. "And before any of you view this as a chance at mutiny, if my father is not around to fight the Skullgirl when she shows up, I guarantee that no one else will be willing to step in."

My dad didn't seem to take the comment very well. "If your implying what I think you are, let me remind you that I've been in this game with your father since before you could wipe your own ass, Vitale."

Not losing his composure, Vitale looked my father right in the eyes. "Pardon the bluntness of my last statement, but I just wish to cover every possible angle to best protect my family. I'm sure you would begin questioning even your closest allies if it meant protecting your son. Am I right, Donatello?"

Scoffing, my father crossed his arms looked away. He was always childish like that.

Standing up, Vitale brushed off his suit before making his way to the door. "I want all of you to have your forces begin searching for Nadia. When she is found, do not engage her. She is a high level threat and someone I'd prefer to have taken care of by my own forces. What you all need to focus on right now is mobilizing your troops in preparation for the Skullgirl, and to cover up any loose ends that could be exploited."

Just as he reached the door, a look of realization came across his face. "One final and rather important note. It would appear that my niece and has gone missing. If you hear anything about her, tell either my brother or I as soon as possible. We'd rather she don't get caught in the crossfire of the next few days."

Pulling out another photo, Vitale slid it onto the table. With that, the mobster gave a slight bow before opening the door and making his way out.

Realizing the situation, I quickly tossed off my headphones, shut off the lights, locked the door, and sprinted down the hall back towards the others. I got back just in time to see Vitale and the others exitin out the front door. I didn't miss the knowing smile my dad sent my way. I didn't miss the inquisitive state from Vitale either.

-0-0-0-0-0-

"You still working?"

"Shit!"

Que the fast hand waving, hammer throwing, and slew of profanity. Throwing a glare at my father, I slammed my foot against the table in front of me.

It had been about half an hour since the meeting had ended, and I was back downstairs, just about to finish up the coffin from earlier when my old man walked in, startling me and causing a repeat of earlier.

Snickering at my misfortune, the old man made his way over to the couch off to the side, taking a seat and motioning for me to do the same. I'd brought the couch down here close to four years ago, back when I started working the night shifts. More then a few late nights spent crashed on the floor, an empty table, or an actual coffin do to not having the strength to climb the stairs.

Sucking on my thumb as I did, I made my way over to him, sitting down and shooting him a look. "What do you want?"

"Can I trust that you were listening in, or do I have to waste five minutes telling you what happened."

"I heard."

"Then you know Vitale is on to you."

"I know."

"So then what do you plan on doing about the Feral?"

"...Save her like last time."

Sighing, my dad tossed his head back and looked straight up at the ceiling. "Oh Trinity. Why did I have to get stuck with the do gooder?" Standing up, he made his way towards the door.

Before exiting, he shot me one last look. "If you protect her and the Medicis find out, your driving both me and you into the ground."

"Sorry you got such birth defect of a son."

"Nah. I wouldn't have you any other way." Offering a good night and a yawn, the manager of the Obitro Morgue made his way upstairs and into bed.

Smiling, I made my way back to the coffin, determined to finish it with no more interruptions before heading off to bed.

-0-0-0-0-0-

It was close to 3 A.M. when I finally made it upstairs. A yawn escaped my mouth as I made my way down the hall. I smiled at that. It would seem I'd have a good sleep tonight.

As I passed the door to the meeting room however, I stopped. Taking a glance both ways down the hall to make sure my dad wasn't up, I silently opened the door.

There, in front of me, still on the table, we're two separate photos, just barely visible in the dark room. Picking them up, I began making my way down the hall towards my room once more.

A few minutes later, and I was laying in bed, slowly falling asleep while trying to figure just what I would do tomorrow.

After all. One can't just go and risk becoming a target of the mafia in order to save their crush without a plan, now can they?

-0-0-0-0-0-

 **Well, there's chapter 3.**

 **As I said before, we have now officially set the stage for the story and what will be the main focus of the next few chapters. I.E. Finding and protecting Nadia Fortune from the Medicis.**

 **Anyway, it is incredible what you can do when your inspired. Since I posted the last chapter, I'd written about 400 words for this story at best, and then, all of a sudden, I got this sudden burst of inspiration to bust out the rest of the chapter in two and a half sittings.**

 **Now there is something I want to address. As you can tell from the kind of screwed up tone of the first few chapters, I do want this story to be a bit more mature. And that may intail me bumping this up to an M rating. For now though, I'll try to keep it as T rating as possible to try and draw in a bigger audience before doing anything to drastic. Will probably ask your guys' opinions on that when the time comes.**

 **Other then that though, I'd like to thank my first ever reviewers for the awsome support that I really didn't expect. Hopefully I can keep you guys satisfied and interested. If you do stay interested, thank you. If you don't, I don't blame you.**

 **Also, in order to help you guys to better picture Donavan and his surroundings, I decided to release that Bio I was talking about in chapter 1.**

 **Name: Donavan Obitro**

 **Gender: Male**

 **Age: 20**

 **Birthday: January 3**

 **Bloodtyoe: B**

 **Height: 183cm(6')**

 **Weight: 72kg(158pds)**

 **Measurements: No clue.**

 **Likes: His work, his van, getting a good nights sleep, dead bodies, Ms Fortune, his dad, outdated referencing, girls, fighting, reading, chess, anthropology, poutine.**

 **Dislikes: Laying around doing nothing, dark chocolate, not being able to sleep, eggs, when people can't catch a hint, small talk, social activity, tedious work, when Jackson asks if he's into necrophilia.**

 **Attire: Red Blazer, White T-shirt, White Dress shirt, red suspenders, Light Brown cargo pants, White socks, Brown leather shoes, Black boxers.**

 **Aside from that, a quick shout out to: nachomoldan, TheHybridGryph, Rando, AwPerator, OutsiderDude and LILforce: for reviewing, favoriting and/or following.**

 **Cheers, eh?**


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